


Close Enough To Touch

by stitchy



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dancing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, UST, gratuitous use of the word 'buddy'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:32:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe is trying to keep his distance from Finn for the sake of their friendship, but it's pretty difficult when they're sharing a bed every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Enough To Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarMaple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaple/gifts).



> Many thanks to StarMaple for her company and cheerleading while writing this fic. Any and all gratuitous use of the word 'buddy' that may appear is because she allowed it.
> 
> PSA: Betas are great! If you don't have one when you write, solicit one on your blog! If you don't write/aren't too busy writing at the moment, offer to beta for others! It makes a good community and great fic :)

     “I am gonna kiss you square on the gills, Nunb!” someone whoops on comms as the squadron speeds away from the tattered remains of Starkiller. Poe just grins instead of telling them to cut the chatter- he’s got his hopes up for their arrival back on D’Qar, too.

     When they land Poe leaps out of his cockpit with the engines still shuddering to a halt, his heart pounding and BB-8 calling after him with encouragements. He rushes to the ramp of the _Falcon,_ fully anticipating that he’ll see Finn, beaming and bouncing in victory and maybe, just maybe brimming full of the same hopes he is. Instead, he’s just in time to see them lay Finn out on a grav sled.

     So still.

     Finn stays that way for three weeks, and Poe talks himself in and out of worrying that it will never end, daily. He has duties, of course, but he and BB-8 visit as often as possible, reading his field reports aloud dramatically as though they’re holonovels.

     It’s probably for the best, Poe thinks, that he has this chance to collect himself. Cooling off can only be good- it would have been a shame to rush into a celebratory one night stand if it spoiled everything, because more than anything he’s anxious for his _friend_ to wake up. Poe probably would have scared him off by overindulging his attraction anyway- the guy was probably pretty inexperienced with all that, coming from the First Order.

     When he runs out of reports, Poe’s at a bit of a loss. He can’t just pick up a datapad on a topic that will interest Finn- next to his prowess with gunnery, the most demonstrated fact he knows about him is that Finn is the most touchy-feely stormtrooper you could ever meet. He laughs freely, hugs hard, and is a serial hand-holder. And he’s good. He’s so _good_. It’s something Poe dwells on while he sits and waits, and comatose or not, he is a goner for this man. He takes Finn’s hand to try and remind him of the unexpected tenderness that had so charmed him in the first place, squeezing tight.

     When he gets word that Finn is finally awake he recaptures that hopeful feeling he’d been boiling over with right after Starkiller.

     He answers all of Finn’s questions and gifts him an assortment of clothes from his own closet, as it’s been awhile since a floating market selling new ones has made orbit at D’Qar

     “I never even _heard_ of this kind of material in the First Order,” Finn exclaims, unwrapping the mended jacket and immediately holding it to his face to rub the leather against his cheek. Just as quickly he drops it in his lap and reaches out an arm to invite Poe to a grateful hug. Yep. Touchy-feely, all right. It’s the best proof of Finn’s resilience he could have asked for.

     Poe sits with him after-hours everyday for a week and a half, delivering reading material and filling him in on the goings-on of the base until the med droid kicks him out, insisting that this much laughter is unrestful for the patient. Finn just smiles blamelessly, and if Poe has to leave his side while there’s still so much more to say- he’s glad he leaves while Finn is glowing like that.

     It quickly becomes the best part of his day, looking in on Finn after his shift. Poe has always felt useful to the Resistance with his professional skills, but spending time with Finn he encounters the notion that he is of personal purpose to someone. He’s someone’s closest friend- a person that they look forward to seeing everyday, and Poe takes that duty just as seriously as his work. BB-8 teases him for going to visit even when he’s sure he’ll be too late and Finn will already have conked out for the night. He just wants to get a quick look at him, see that he’s safe. When he ducks his head in, he doesn’t expect to notice that his old flight jacket is tucked up under Finn’s pillow, hands wrapped into it like he’s been worrying the hem between forefinger and thumb until he falls asleep.

     “All right, Bee- you said it. It’s late,” Poe agrees, ushering his droid back out of the medbay before he makes a spectacle of himself, gawking. BB-8 trills a soft ‘goodnight’ to Finn.

     It tickles in his chest to wonder, briefly, if this business with the jacket has anything to do with him, but mostly Poe figures it’s a side effect of Finn having lived through armor and gloves all these years. There’s so much to touch now. He can certainly relate to liking to keep one's hands occupied, at least. Fiddling with things is a great way to kill time, and to prove it there’s a bounty of half-dismantled mechanical parts on every flat surface of Poe’s quarters- including the windowsill and the spare bed.

     Finn comes knocking at his door the first night that he’s released from the medbay. Poe glances at his chrono, only three hours to dawn, but calls him in anyway, bleary eyed and suddenly very apologetic about the state of his room. He bid Finn goodnight at his own, new room just a few hours ago, but now Finn muddles through the door, wearing his jacket over sleep clothes and looking absolutely miserable. It puts an unwelcome lump in Poe’s throat.

     “I’m used to the barracks... Then the medbay,” he explains, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “There was always someone nearby.”

     “I can be your someone,” Poe offers automatically.

     “I’d like that,” Finn says, his head lifting hopefully. With all the mess covering it, the spare bed must not even look like a bed, because Finn disregards it entirely and crosses to Poe’s bunk, peering down with a crooked smile. “Sorry I woke you.”

     Poe isn’t entirely sure he’s anticipating this correctly until it’s already happening, and Finn’s shrugging off his jacket then pulling the blanket and slipping a knee on the bed, gently nudging him to move over. He holds his breath while he shuffles over on his elbows and divvies up the pillows before he lies back down. The bunk is certainly wide enough for them to lay shoulder to shoulder with some room to spare, but when Finn climbs in he immediately rolls to his side, very close. It takes a moment for the reason to dawn on him.

     “How’s your back?” Poe frowns. It may be too tender for him to fall asleep on, still. Finn scratches absently at the smaller scar on the front of his shoulder.

     “A little itchy,” he admits.

     Poe rolls so he can reach behind Finn and give the long scar on his back a helpful knead or two. However many Finn will let him get away with, really. Very careful to use the fleshiest part of his hand, he can feel Finn relax under his touch, his breathing getting slower and deeper. An unexpected sound like the purr of a loth-cat erupts from Finn, who curls into him. Poe gives the length of his back a few more rubs, expecting Finn to pull away at any moment, but he never does. Its gradual, but they inch closer and closer until Poe’s basically holding Finn in his arms. There’s a little tug of Finn’s hand twining itself into the cloth of his shirt, linking them further. The corner of a broad smile appears on Finn’s sleepy face. The same one that used to go hand in hand with Poe getting kicked out of the infirmary for being too amusing- and the one that makes it hard to say goodnight. Finn laughs, snuffled in Poe’s chest.

     “What is it, buddy?” he asks, voice as warm as the feel of Finn’s muscled back under his hand.

     Finn sighs happily. “You scratch my back, I steal the clothes off of yours.” Poe can feel his face flush, but fortunately Finn doesn’t notice, head tucked and eyes drooping.

     “You do seem to enjoy a lot of perks,” Poe agrees, recognizing the shirt Finn’s wearing as one of his hand-me-downs. His hand finally slows on Finn’s back then lingers at his waist for a long moment before he catches himself.

     He rolls onto his back reluctantly, but even with his eyes closed Finn follows him like a turning page. Half of his chest and one sturdy arm drape over Poe, Finn’s chin nestled by his shoulder. While Finn clings to him like one of the vines on the command room’s walls, Poe frets silently, wondering if he ought to pull away. He worries that he’s pressing some kind of advantage letting an oblivious Finn climb into bed with him when he himself has been harboring a thinly veiled crush.

     Poe clears his throat to speak but-

     “Goodnight,” Finn hums, quite close to his ear.

     He glances at BB-8 in her charging station, imagining the scolding he would get if she were online right now- but then Finn snores peacefully, finally resting, still smiling. Not at all as miserable as he looked when he turned up, which would have distressed BB-8 more, honestly. If this is what it took, then... He resolutely reminds himself that Finn is a toucher- it’s reassuring contact for Finn and Force knows it’s been a hell of a month. It’s just one night, really.

     The next evening patrol with the Blue Squadron goes over several hours due to a sunstorm and some irregular comm activity, so by the time Poe is back on base the mess hall is no longer serving dinner. Of course he has a small pantry in his quarters stocked with dry goods he can fall back on, but he has a sneaky sort of feeling that if Finn missed him at supper, he might have saved him something like Poe had often done for Finn while he was still confined to med bay. Either way, he really ought to look in on him and see that he had a decent go of his first standard day as a healed man, so Poe and BB-8 make their way directly from the hangar to the wing of the complex where he lives.

     Except there’s no answer when Poe knocks. BB-8 blats loudly and emphatically enough that several other residents of the wing poke their heads out of their rooms to see what’s the matter- but not Finn. BB-8 huffs and chatters that this _must_ be because when she came online this morning _someone_ was taking _liberties-_ and now Finn will be too upset to be her friend anymore. She rolls off, back to their quarters to sulk, leaving Poe to his confusion. Dismayed, he figures he can at least get something hot to drink from the mess that might ease the sinking feeling in his stomach and then he can figure out how to smooth things over with BB-8.

     On the walk towards the mess hall Poe manages to convince himself that Finn was _not_ actually hiding from him in his room, unwilling to answer. What would there be to hide about, anyway? He had been very accommodating to Finn, minded his manners as best he could while being pawed at all night, then slipped away carefully so as not to disturb Finn in the morning. Did BB-8 expect him to blow off their shift and cater a breakfast in bed?

     He orders a rek tea and a hubba roll from the kitchen and leans back against the bar to wait, surveying the mostly deserted room. At this late hour, there are some infantry enjoying their caf before starting the graveyard shift in one corner, and in another, a woman from Intel is hunched over a datapad- probably trying to write a personal letter with some privacy from her nosy, professional-spy roommates. Poe balks when he recognizes the figure in the middle of the room, an island in the sea of empty tables. Not for the first time, he wonders if the General is Force-sensitive, because she seems to sense his gaze and turns around to look at him, lifting her tea in salute.

     The chef slides Poe’s order toward him just in time to return the gesture- and she beckons him with an articulate head tilt. “Oh, err-” he stammers.

     Taking his tea and bread with him, he crosses the hall, mind racing for something suave and professional to say when he sits down. Poe’s managed to overcome his natural awe of the General enough to work alongside her without getting tongue tied, sure- but he’s still unseasoned with the off-duty socializing component of living on base with a kriffing _legend_.

     “General,” he nods, then takes a seat across from her, trying to arrange his face into something less frantic than his thoughts.

     “Poe, you’re looking well,” she says, ever the diplomat. He knows full well that he’s rumpled and rattled from eleven hours in a cockpit and a fight with his droid. Good of her to ignore it.

     Sipping his tea, he notices he’d misidentified her drink from across the room, and flicks a questioning finger. “Any good? Not sure I know what that is.”

     General Organa swirls her glass, which has a curled peel of something floating in it. “Not really, but it’s named for me, so I like it,” she declares.

     As a teenager Poe _may_ have had a speeder called ‘Leia’ in her honor (for which he was teased mercilessly), so it’s not hard to imagine some bartender taking a shine to the idea too. “What’s that, then?”

     “The Huttslayer,” she grins, eyes crinkling.

     It’s all Poe can do not to spit-take. “I _knew_ that was true!” He groans, vindicated. If he ever ran into Buzzy Zhet from Yavin 4 again, he’d set the record straight, all right. General Organa laughs, and Poe thinks how nice that is to hear from her after a fairly terrible month.

     “And how is your young man?” she asks lightly.

     “He’s not _my_ young man-” Poe starts.

     “You knew who I meant, though,” the General points out.

     Poe takes a long draw of his tea, draining half of it. “He’s been released from medical, so that’s good,” he decides. That’s enough to disclose without embarrassing himself. No need to mention any impromptu sleepovers- _stop thinking about it for five minutes_. “Really good,” he adds, after another sip.

     “I’m glad to hear it. Will he be staying with the Resistance?” she asks- and Poe knows it’s not really a question of counting an added number to their ranks.

     “I hope so,” he admits. Without ever having heard that combination of words from Finn’s own mouth- Poe has wished it to be true so desperately he’s nearly willed it into a fact in his brain. He really ought to check on Finn’s thoughts on the matter at some point. “Finn’s an incredible asset. He’s an expert on the First Order, and skilled gunner, brave, inquisitive...” Poe should really just stop there or he’s going to need another rek tea to get through his list.

     “And- he’s one of those nice men,” General Organa says knowingly.

     Indeed he is.

     Once he’s finished his drink, Poe peels away and makes towards home, ready to drop into bed after this endless day. Maybe if he’s feeling really ambitious he’ll even take a shower. After he settles with BB-8, of course. Poe opens the door to his quarters, rubbing his face in humility.

     “Bee, whatever you’re upset about you’re probably right,” he mumbles, not looking up. “-but whatever happened last night won’t happen again.”

     “You call another droid ‘cute’ in front of her or something?” says a voice he did not expect.

     Finn is standing near the window, inspecting some of the engine bits that are positioned on the sill. Poe loses track of his tongue for a moment. After placing the pieces back where they came from, Finn joins him by the door.

     “Uh? Sorry to keep you waiting,” Poe laughs, as Finn greets him by wrapping him into a firm hug. Finn has taken to being a Hugger with a uppercase ‘herf’, these days. It’s- nice. BB-8 peeks at him over Finn’s shoulder, cooing a note of satisfaction. Whatever ticked her off earlier seems to be forgiven. “What’s up?”

     Finn pulls back, and Poe finally notices that he’s dressed in sleep clothes. _Oh_.

     “I’m thinking I’d like to apply to the Intelligence unit, and I wanted to know what you think!” he says, beaming.

     What does Poe think? He thinks it’s exactly the confirmation he’s been hoping for. And he wants Finn to make his own choices now and find things to do that interest him, and have everything _good_ , and- “That’s- that’s _fantastic_ , buddy!”

     A weight on his chest that he hadn’t previously noticed seems to lift and he feels an urge to lean into another embrace since Finn’s hands are still gripping his elbows. He breathes in deep in an effort to steel himself, but instead is reminded of his foulness from a double shift with Black One.

     “I’m glad you think so,” says Finn, still grinning ear to ear.

     ”Let me just clean up, then you can tell me all about it.”

     Finn nods eagerly and releases him, so Poe heads off towards the ‘fresher, toeing a few bits of debris underneath the spare bunk along the way. He’ll have to clean it off and make up the bunk for Finn as soon as he’s had his shower- be a good host.

     A few minutes later, Poe steps back into the room, changed for bed and much improved both in cleanliness and mood. In his own bed, already tucked into the covers and chatting to BB-8- is Finn. Snapping his hanging jaw shut as quickly as possible, he crosses towards the spare bunk, ready to clear it off for himself, but Finn catches his hand along the way. With his natural, constant exuberance- Finn pulls him onto the bed.

     Poe is so unprepared for this, he worries he’s about to elbow Finn in the gut as he tumbles down, but Finn only chuckles as he manhandles Poe safely across himself, positioning him close to the wall. BB-8 beeps in query, butting up against the edge of the bunk.

     “S’fine, Bee- why don’t you call it a night?” he laughs, breathless with Finn’s hands still on him. She hoots a prim little reminder to _be good_ , and rolls off to her station.

     “Goodnight BB-8!” says Finn, turning on his side to face Poe, who follows suit like the night before. He draws a deep breath, and Poe’s not entirely sure what’s coming. “So I think the Resistance could find other stormtroopers like me,” Finn launches in- “If they knew where to look.”

     “ _I_ didn’t look very hard, but I suppose not every agent of the Resistance can be as lucky as I am,” Poe grins. Finn laughs. But- “People like you?” Poe can’t help but question this. There can’t possibly be anyone in the galaxy quite like Finn.

     He just nods his head vigorously. “Yeah, well I’ve been thinking- the New Republic really took a hit, and the Resistance was always outgunned against the First Order,” Finn continues. “It might seem like there’s no one else to ask for help, but what if the Republic and the Resistance had a fraction of the First Order on their side?”

     Finn is a genius. He is the most brilliant thing in this system, and D’Qar really ought to be orbiting _him_ instead of whatever lackluster star currently holds that honor. If Poe wasn’t under BB-8’s orders to behave himself, he might kiss him.

     “Would you like to meet with the General about it?” Poe offers. After the destruction of the Hosnian system they lost momentum on most of their intel projects, he knows. Regrouping behind Finn’s idea might be just the shot in the arm Resistance Intelligence needs, and if Poe can get it jump-started he’s more than happy to throw around his influence.

     “I could just do that?” Finn asks, exhibiting the awe Poe is intimately familiar with.

     “She’s easier to talk to than you might expect.”

     Finn looks like he’s considering this, and starts absently rubbing his shoulder where Poe knows the irritating scar is that he _can_ reach. Poe shuffles closer, gesturing his intention.

     “Oh please yes,” Finn allows, tucking his arms close then rolling on his belly so Poe can reach his back easier.

     He reaches out one hand, more sure of himself than the night before. Lazily he rubs all along the length of Finn’s scar, earning a few relieved little grunts.

     “Ungff- do you mind?” asks Finn. Poe isn’t sure what about, but- in for a credit, in for an ingot. He agrees, and Finn pushes up onto his knees for a moment, tugging his shirt off overhead before settling back down, injury on display.

     "Oh, Finn,” Poe breathes, never having seen the damage before- and certainly not this close.

     He hesitates to touch his fingers to the raised edges, a pink ribbon of a wound twisting from one shoulder blade to the opposite flank- but he said he didn’t mind, and he doesn’t. With the whole palm of his hand he covers the worst of it, where there lightsaber must have begun its strike, reminding himself that it doesn’t really hurt anymore, it’s just irritating.

     Poe silently thanks the Force and the stars and any folk gods who might be listening in that this wasn’t the end of Finn, cut down before they really had a chance to get to know each other- or Finn got a chance to know _himself_ outside of the First Order. He carefully works the pads of his fingers along the scar for several minutes until Finn rolls onto his side again, satisfied. This time he elects to turn his back on Poe, which he nearly takes as a brush off- but then Finn wiggles his way across the distance between them, spooning in front and fishing his arm to try and find Poe’s hand, still at his back. Finn pulls Poe’s arm around himself and sighs in content once he has it, Poe’s hand tucked tight in his own.

     “Goodnight, buddy,” says Poe, letting his head drop against Finn’s nape.

     When Finn follows him home after dinner in the mess hall the next night, Poe goes through a song and dance about cleaning up the bunk.The night after that, it’s so late when they flop into bed it’s a wonder they remembered to sleep on the bed and not the floor. The night after that, Poe doesn’t bother with pretense at all.

     He wakes up in the morning, his head pillowed on Finn’s belly and his hair being very softly combed by warm fingers. Usually Poe will wake up first and drag himself away while Finn dozes- it doesn't do to dwell on the whole Bed Sharing Situation when Poe is wide awake. He must have overslept. Clearly, Finn has been up for a bit, and even when he feels Poe stir he carries on petting his hair.

     “Mmm, hey,” Poe mumbles, extricating himself. He thinks about apologizing for trapping Finn’s arm- but seeing as he follows Poe’s head with his hand even as he pushes himself up, it must not have been much of an imposition.

     “You have really nice hair,” Finn says, with one last scratch.

     Poe reminds himself that Finn is just _really_ tactile. It doesn't mean anything even if he wishes it did- even if Finn has really nice _everything_ , laying in Poe’s bed in the morning light all soft and sleep rumpled and smiling up at him. Poe sighs when Finn’s hand pulls away, trailing down his back. This is exactly why he gets out of bed as quickly as he can most mornings.

     “You, uhm. Sleep well?”

     “Always,” Finn says lightly. “Good thing too. I’m going off-world most of the day with Krigg- I dunno if I’ll be back to D’Qar in time to sleep in a bed or if I’ll be crammed upright between half the Intel techs, all trying not to drool on each other.”

     Poe laughs. “Who’s flying you?” Hopefully someone good.

     Finn endeavors to remember, squinting. “Tane?”

     Tane’s a passable pilot, Poe decides, nodding. If he had his way he’d fly Finn everywhere himself, but that’s not practical. He climbs out of the bunk and goes to activate BB-8 before he begins his morning routine. She seems to have accepted their rooming arrangement as a given, automatically chirping a good morning to both he and Finn by name. She goes over to socialize with Finn- an added bonus of having him around. It helps to have someone to run interference with his droid while Poe hits the ‘fresher and gets suited up for the day. He makes record time in the mornings when he doesn’t have BB-8 to trip over, chasing his heels in a confined space.

     Poe clasps his belts and whistles at BB-8 for her attention, as she’s still bouncing around Finn while he picks an outfit. BB-8 hoots a laugh at Poe no matter how many times he’s done it, and despite the explanation that he’s not _trying_ to whistle in binary. She often insists he ought to stick to Basic around more judgemental droids.

     “We’ve got a long one today, too. I’ll...see you when I see you?” Poe dawdles by the door, unsure how this part of things goes. He’s never really left Finn without being dragged away by a third party, or crashing a craft, or there being a coma involved. Finn seems to have some idea though.

     He finishes pulling on his (formally Poe’s) shirt and hurries across the room, throwing his arms around Poe and giving him a mighty hug. “Goodbye, Poe.”

     When he lets go, BB-8 chatters her farewell and they take off toward the hangar. Poe does a checklist in his head; equipment, flight plans filed, and pilots notified. Something nags at him.

     “Do you feel like we forgot something?”

     BB-8 slides her dome side to side in her shrug-gesture and Poe tries to put it out of his mind.

     When they get back in from another grueling double patrol that night Poe is amazed he still has the flexibility required to walk back to his quarters. His back is cramping from half a standard day in one position and all he wants in the whole galaxy is to (somehow) pull off his boots, wallow in the ‘fresher for maybe an hour, and climb into bed with Finn. Maybe if he is still capable of stringing sentences together he can even ask for a backrub. That’ll be nice.

     His stomach drops when he gets to the room and it’s empty. But it’s silly- Finn might be in the mess hall, or maybe not in from off-worlding yet, that’s all. While he shucks his boots and suit Poe asks BB-8 to check if Tane’s ship is back on base yet. He drags his sorry behind into the ‘fresher and stays there until he prunes and BB-8 comes rolling back into his quarters, gloomily announcing that Finn’s transport is behind schedule. For the first time in several days, Poe slides into a cold bed.

     “You tell me if they have any trouble, BB-8.” He doesn’t care how tired he is or what unholy shape his back might be in, he _will_ get in the cockpit in an instant if there’s any funny business.

     For what feels like hours he lays awake, waiting but not admitting to himself that he’s waiting. Blames it on his back. Poe must drift off at some point though, because an hour before dawn he half wakes when warm arms slip around him from behind, squeezing. A whispered apology. Goodnight. He might mumble something back, he can’t remember. It’s all fine.

     The next evening he and Finn make it back to their quarters at a decent hour.

“You know, because of the thing with Blue the other day- some shifts were switched and I’m gonna have a whole day of downtime tomorrow,” Poe mentions while kicking off his boots. BB-8 flees from further flying footwear when Finn does the same. “What about you?”

     “I have a bunch of research to study before Statura gets back on base, but that’s a few more days from now,” Finn tells him.

     “Do you think you could make the time to go into orbit for the Dux-4 Air Market with me?” Poe asks. “If you wanted to! I mean, Rule One; when you have free time in the Resistance, do what _you_ want to do with it.”

     Finn looks at him like he has said something very baffling. “Well of course?”

     “Of course?”

     “Yeah,” Finn laughs, pulling at his shirt. “You need to fill out your closet a bit so I can steal more things from it.”

     Poe narrows his eyes at Finn in mock suspicion, “See what this relationship costs me in clothes alone, BB-8?”

     BB-8 whirrs in exasperation, objecting to being dragged into this.

     Finn snickers, patting her dome to make peace. “I think I should cram in a bit of reading tonight, though. So I can really enjoy myself tomorrow,” he explains. He twists on his heel toward the door like he’s debating leaving. Poe can see the reluctance in his fallen face and winces, feeling the same.

     “You could do that here, you know,” he offers. He has some reports to fill out and schedules to organize, underfunded inventories to agonize over- that sort of thing. It would all be much more enjoyable with Finn next to him.

     “Really?”

     Poe is happy to see him light up again. “Yeah! Go get your stuff and bring it here. We can work tonight and play tomorrow,” he grins.

     Finn scrambles for his boots and dashes out the door without another word. BB-8 hoots a laugh, then rolls up to Poe with several questions.

     “Maybe; I have no idea what you’re talking about; yes; and also yes,” Poe replies, counting off his responses on his fingers. “What do you want me to get from Dux-4?”

     BB-8 gives a short but mouthy beep, because Poe has been entirely too lenient with her upbringing. He sighs and goes to change out of his flight suit before Finn comes back so they can get comfy with their datapads.

     A few minutes later, Finn returns with what amounts to _all_ of his stuff, seeing as that really only consists of an armful of clothes and two or three Resistance issue electronics. He puts the neatly folded clothes down on the spare bunk amidst Poe’s tinkering, which finally shames Poe into sacrificing one of the storage compartments in the wall.

     “I swear, I will actually clean this mess at some point. I know- I _know_ I’m giving military neatness a bad name in the galaxy,” he says, shoving the contents of the compartment under the spare bunk instead.

     Finn just continues blithely tucking his belongings into the cubby, chuckling at him. “It’s okay if you’re a little messy,” he promises. “I like it.”

     “A lot messy,” Poe corrects, nudging a gonk motherboard out of sight. “But don’t worry, buddy. I’m going to spoil you rotten at the floating market. Buy you some knick knacks and a dozen spare droid parts. Then you’ll learn to contribute to this merry trash heap.”

     “It’s always an honor to learn from a master,” says Finn with a very solemn set to his jaw, but his eyes spark like a laugh and betray him. He crosses to Poe’s bunk with his tablet in hand, and sits up against the wall, leaving a cozy little spot for Poe to join him- which he does, of course.

     It’s much more enjoyable to slog through his reports with Finn while he is conscious, Poe decides. When he turns to him with an expression pinched in disbelief, Finn will snort a laugh and peer over his shoulder to see what lunacy the Resistance is up to. Meanwhile, since Finn’s meeting with the General earlier in the day, he’s been assigned the task of researching homeworlds known for being harvest sites for First Order troops. It all very eye opening to Finn, and maybe a bit unsettling- but Poe can’t help the little twinge he gets every time Finn mouths _‘Wow’_ and gives his head a little shake before reading on. Force save him, it’s adorable.

     Poe gets to the end of his checklist a bit later than he intended, since he kept taking Finn-peeking breaks, but he doesn’t mind. His eyes feel so heavy he already knows he’ll sleep like the dead, which will just make waking up for a full day with Finn happen all the sooner. He switches off his datapad and lobs it out of bed towards BB-8 so she can sync her circuits with the latest updates. Poe can hear her coo in interest while he shuts his eyes and melts down the wall, sliding himself properly into bed.

     “That’s it. I win. I vanquished the flight plans,” he mumbles, squishing his pillow into a pleasing shape.

     “So brave,” teases Finn.

     “D’you still have more to read?” Poe asks.

     Finn drops his nearest hand on to Poe’s pillow, twirling a finger into one of his curls. “I’ll just finish up on this planet, then I’ll be right with you, buddy,” he says, low and soft. More of his fingers dip into Poe’s hair and give his scalp a scratch, finding a rhythm that seems to suit him while he finishes reading.

     Poe hums. It’s been ages since anyone has played with his hair. “Keep that up, I’ll buy you _two_ dozen droid parts.”

     The gentle twitch of Finn’s fingers in his hair is so hypnotizing, Poe doesn’t know if it’s just a few minutes or a whole a standard hour that passes. When Finn stops reading and gets out of bed momentarily to put away his research, Poe is still just this side of awake, heart thrumming and then suddenly out of step.

     “Finn?” Poe pushes up onto one elbow, then realizes Finn is already on his way back, face cast in the ambient light from the window, a little bit blue.

     Finn gets under the covers again, unhesitating as he reaches out for Poe beneath them, turning him in place and crowding against him. Just when Poe thinks there couldn’t be anything more enthralling than Finn wrapping around him, warm chest to his back, there’s a tender hand in his hair again, stroking it back from his temple. It instantly ignites something in him, damn the late hour. He shudders from the neck down, and by some miracle manages to stop himself from pushing his hips back and grinding. Wait- why is it he’s been ignoring that Finn’s sleeping in his bed all week, again? He seriously needs to remember. Something about freaking out ex-stormtroopers who have few comforts in this world other than three sets of pre-owned clothes and a friend to be close to...

 _Schematics!_ Poe tries to think about every single piece of circuitry in an RZ-1’s sublight drive, in backwards aurebesh. He stays perfectly still, and gets as far as the Kuat manufacturer’s unique double-polarity wiring when he hears the soft snore behind him, and gently disentangles from Finn’s arms.

     He just has to figure out how to tell Finn he needs a little distance, he tells himself, over and over until he falls asleep.

     At dawn, Poe wakes up feeling self sabotaged. Overnight he managed to nestle his way back into Finn’s arms again, this time face first, nose tucked in his neck. The smell of him is fantastic, enough like his own to make him feel a little possessive, but with notes of difference that pluck at his interest. Poe makes a tiny stretch to wake up the rest of his body and- _interested_ is definitely the word. He freezes in place, like he’s trying to elude a motion sensor, that same dropping feeling in his stomach as there would be if he tried this tactic in open space. It’s a weak defense.

     His breathing must change, because Finn notices he’s awake. “Morning,” he rumbles, his voice deepened by sleep. A hand smooths across Poe’s back and he sits up like a shot.

     “Market day! Great!” Poe declares, going from zero to hyperspeed. “I’ve got dibs on the ‘fresher,” he says, stumbling out of bed and making his way out of the room before he can embarrass himself more plainly.

     Several minutes later Poe returns to the room with restored nerve. At some point today, he will take Finn aside and explain that they should set him up in his own bunk. He _will_. It’s for the best.

     Finn is dressed and already pulling on his boots, sitting on the edge of bed while BB-8 has been waiting for Poe to return so she can ask permission to spend the day shadowing the General while they’re off-world.

     “Like I would stand in the way of true love?” Poe gasps. “BB-8 Dameron, I’m surprised at you. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” He aims a grin at Finn, who has heard nearly all of Poe’s idolizing praises and confessions about the General. Finn chuckles and gets up to open the door for her.

     BB-8 bleeps, delighted and twirling a little dance on the spot before hurrying out. Poe can hear someone greet her in the corridor and a moment later two heads pop in the door, looking surprised.

     “Gooood morning,” Jessika croons musically, inviting herself in with Snap hot on her heels.

     “Finn!” Snap says. “You’ve come to the pilot’s lodgings awfully early.”

     Poe groans, “Well you’re up too-”

     “-Or is he _still_ in the pilot’s lodgings?” questions Jess, waggling an eyebrow at Snap.

     Finn blessedly overlooks their insinuation, and helpfully fills them in. “We’re going to the Dux-4 Air Market today!”

     “Yes, we’ll be shoving off any minute now,” Poe insists, attempting to herd them out of the room before they can further complicate his plans for the day. “Long way to orbit, you know.”

     “Poe, we all fly in and out of the atmosphere of this and other planets, like- three times an hour,” Snap reminds him, not budging. He fixes Finn with an inspecting eye. “Isn’t that one of your shirts?”

     “Not on public shuttles, we don’t!” cries Poe, deciding instead to haul Finn by the arm out the room. Poe wouldn’t fly with idiots on his roster, so he’s not gonna fool Jess and Snap into unseeing the shared clothing, the one slept-in bunk, and the way he just generally _adores_ Finn.

     As they take off down the hallway he can still hear Jess calling after them.

     “Be sure to get a cute picture from the holobooth!”

     Finn and Poe agree to get breakfast at the market so that Finn can get The Complete Experience. On the shuttle there, Poe tries to keep his spirits up by imagining the delicacies on offer.

     “I don’t imagine you ever had panna cakes,” he says, trying to ignore the amateur bumps and bustle of the shuttle’s piloting. “Or Gartro omelets with jerba cheese? Oh! or Dantooine cereal...Bajjah? Mmmm. Bajjah...” Poe goes on and on with everything he can think of that tends to be on a Core world menu. He _really_ hates public transport.

     When then finally disembark at the floating market, Finn watches him shudder with contempt for the shuttle behind them, laughing and grabbing his hand so they can dive into the fray.

     “Thank Force that’s over with,” Poe mutters, darkly.

     “Witnessing you in that shuttle was like forcing a Jedi to stand by while someone struggles to butter their bread without stabbing it.” Finn winks at him.

     Now, Poe knows he’s a spectacular pilot- but Finn likening him to a kriffing _Jedi_? Not making it any easier to push the guy away. So he lets Finn hold his hand for the better part of an hour while they find the right booth to get their breakfast from. He’s only human.

     Of course, being a member of the Resistance these days is not a profitable enterprise, but hazard stipends for the New Republic were a little more considerable, and Poe does have a decent chunk of credits at his disposal from his early career. He wasn’t entirely kidding when he said he’d spoil Finn- but instead of a basket of droid parts he is struggling to convince Finn to pick something Really Nice For Himself to go with the basic staples they’re already picked out.

     “Something to build your wardrobe around,” he suggests, holding up option after option while Finn smiles politely but shakes his head. “-So everything sort of matches and you can toss together whatever and you’ll always look fantastic.” The fault of this premise of course being that Finn would look fantastic in anything in this market, even a suns-faded awning from over a booth.

     While Finn is fascinated by the chance to get his hands on a number of new-to-him cloth and skins (both tanned and synthesized) he refuses to select a new jacket. Even one without a patched up slash across the back of it.

     “I _really_ like the one I have,” he says sincerely. He drags his hands down the lapels, smiling down at it fondly.

     Poe sighs, a little guilty, but a little happy that Finn is so devoted to his second gift to him. “Okay, buddy. I know when I’m beat.”

     They walk a little deeper into the maze of stalls, where clothes to suit species of any combination and quantity of limbs are heaped with no real system at all. Among the anarchy of garments something must catch Finn’s eye, because he gives Poe’s elbow a little squeeze and zeros in on a particular heap a few meters to the left. When he reaches it he gives a tug to a silky peek of gold, pulling it from the pile revealing a sleeve, then a torso, and another sleeve. It’s some tremendous luck it’s a bibrachial jacket really, so Poe comes closer to inspect it.

     “Stars,” says Poe, not believing his eyes. It’s a quilt-trimmed dress jacket, similar to one his mother had in green, but this- “this is from the old Rebellion, Finn.”

     Finn attempts to hand the golden jacket to him, reverently. “ _You_ need a new one, I took yours.”

     Poe shrinks away. “I couldn’t- if Organa or Ackbar or any of the old guard ever saw me wearing it, I-” He’s not _worthy_ of a piece like this. This is the kind heroes from the legendary Rogue Squadron would have worn around the time he was born. It’s a relic.

     With a sigh, Finn offers out the jacket again, holding it open so Poe could slip in, if he wanted. “You could just try it,” Finn points out.

     The Market around them bustles with people, and when Poe takes a quick glance, Luke Skywalker himself does _not_ manifest to prevent him from playing dress up with his legacy. Finn smiles at him hopefully, like it would make his closest held dreams come true- so Poe puts it on. Finn comes around the the front of him, straightening the shoulders and sweeping his hands to the neck and holding the collar, just a breath away from actually holding his face. Poe’s stomach lurches hopefully, spurred on by Finn’s appraising little sound of delight. He tries to squash it down, because that is not the idea here. Finn is just a touchy-feely kind of guy and he’s supposed to figure out how to preserve himself from that, not delude himself into thinking it’s something more than it is.

     “I was right. You look very handsome,” says Finn, as casually as if he were remarking on the weather.

     Poe feebly objects. “I can’t-”

     “Do you like it?” Finn’s hands are still on his collar, drawing them close.

     “Yeah,” Poe admits with a gulp. “But I don’t deserve to wear it.”

     Finn shakes his head, laughing. “Some Rodian could come along after us and decide to use it for kindling, Poe. You definitely would treat it right, at least.”

     That’s a horrifying enough thought that Poe relents, agreeing to buy the jacket. With a smug little smirk and a sack full of new pants, Finn drags him off towards an enticing smell.

     “Of course they didn’t have candy in the First Order,” Poe groans in realization. When it’s their turn to make a selection, Finn is paralyzed by the variety of options, so Poe suggests a number of things Finn ought to sample. They find a holographic fountain to sit by so he can taste-test the selection.

     “Too sweet,” Finn yucks at a bag of little yellow pellets.

     Hard boiled candies are not to his liking, they quickly learn. Finn is more partial to the creamy flavors than the tangy ones. He hands the rest of the bag to Poe, who will need to be saved from himself at this rate- now he’s got the sweets he picked out for himself _and_ Finn’s cast offs to be tempted by. He tucks away the rest, deciding he can always force them on Jess and Snap in revenge.

     He watches Finn try one of the mallo sticks, the holographic fountain behind them buzzing as merrily as Finn does. It’s a tremendous honor to be introducing Finn to these kinds of things, Poe thinks.

     ”Do you want to throw a quartercredit into the fountain?” he asks, suddenly remembering the real water fountains in the markets of his homeworld. He starts fishing in his pockets for some of the tiny tokens.

     Finn regards him with a skeptical eyebrow. “Does the fountain need money?” he asks, dry. He’s getting used to having his leg pulled, spending this much time around Poe.

     “It’s for making wishes,” Poe grins, holding out two little silver pieces, one for each of them.

     Taking one, Finn stands up and turns around to face the fountain. Where they are sitting, several metal-hewn benches surround a low railing that protects pedestrians from a deep well. From below, a display and white and blue light froths several meters high. There’s enough scattering of the light and fizzling sound to make it something like an homage to water, instead of a parody of it. Poe takes his token and steps up to the railing, explaining how an underhand toss will get some height.

     “What are you suppose to wish for?” Finn asks, preparing. He steps up onto the bottom rail of the enclosure with Poe, clutching his token carefully.

     Poe shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

     With a sidelong glance at Poe, Finn considers this for a moment, then makes his toss. They watch the credit arc into the air and through the peak of the looping, bubbling display of lights, making the image crackle like lightning as it dives down.

     “Good aim,” says Poe, lining up his throw with a little practice motion before doing the same- but he’s too old for wishing wells. He just wishes for Finn’s wish to come true.

     There’s enough time before the last shuttle off of Dux-4 for them to get something to eat at one of the dining establishments, so they make their way to the court with the three options Poe suspects will be most appetizing. The signage promises dinner and a show at two of them, and authentic Corellian wine at the third.

     “That’ll be a mess,” says Poe, considering. “We still have to take a _public_ shuttle afterward.”

     “We can always get a drink from the mess to recover from the shuttle when we’re back home,” Finn says wisely.

     Poe points at the middle establishment. “That one’s a chain, Max’s Flanth House? We could always find another one of those, towards the Core,” he reasons, certain they’ll have plenty opportunity in their future for such a thing. “-But there’s nothing like a dive bar for a little local color.”

     Takodana is where the Resistance picked up Finn after they had been separated on Jakku, so Poe knows Finn had a passing acquaintanceship with cantina culture- but Maz ran a respectable joint. Inside of Ozael’s was a completely different story. Where Maz’s castle was breezy and populated with gregarious types, this place was the sort full of suggestive dark corners with a boozy band. Two Ortolans break into a loud lover’s quarrel while they make their way to a table, and Finn gets hold of Poe’s elbow, his body language on guard.

     “I don’t think it’s the kind of place you need to worry too much about the safety of my limbs, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Poe grins. Finn could probably take at least four drunk Ortolans by himself, truth be told.

     They place an order for Roba steak, which they would never get the chance to eat with the Resistance, and their server lets them know how long they can expect to wait. The crowd, Poe notices, is a lot of couples at small candlelit tables like theirs. It’s the kind of intimate setting he might have taken Finn to on purpose if he had gone about any of this the right way.

     The music that fills the room changes from slow to something more buoyant, and even in the low light Finn noticeably gets invested in it. His fingers tap on the table with the beat while Poe explains the difference between a rrwii and a ruik root casserole- both inedible, in his opinion. A crooning voice begins to accompany the instruments, and Finn’s head swings around to look. In front of the bandstand there’s a small dance floor where a number of sentient beings of various relationship to each other are moving about with whatever expressive body parts they possess.

     Finn looks back around at Poe, smile taking up half of his face. “Can we dance?” He’s already halfway out of his seat, offering Poe a hand.

     All the reasons Poe should duck the invitation flash through his head at lightspeed- but it’s clear Finn really wants this, and Poe can’t lie to himself, he does too. He’ll have to come clean with him soon, and if Finn is offended by it- he can look back on this, at least. Poe takes his hand and lets himself be pulled out of his seat and lead to the dance floor, spirits already lifting.

     Unsurprisingly, the first bit of direction Finn gleans from watching the crowd is to pull Poe closer, which he does by getting his hands on the lapels of Poe’s new jacket, reeling him in.

     “I have danced, you know,” Finn tells him, close. He’s starting to find his step and move in a way with no style, but plenty of heart. “Just not with someone else.”

     “Even stormtroopers get to cut a rug now and again, huh?” Poe smiles at the image. There must be a little bit of natural rhythm in even the most rigid of upbringings. All of that marching about should have tipped him off.

     “I can’t speak for everyone else,” Finn adds as an afterthought. He seems unsure what to do with his hands, now that he has Poe where he wants him. “You’re probably really good at it,” he says, grinning.

     No one ever went out of their way to teach Poe how to dance, but no one ever forbid it either, so that must count for something. He just danced how he liked. “You just do what feels good,” he shrugs.

     Poe reaches to tangle his fingers with Finn’s with one hand, takes a deep breath and goes ahead and plants the other on Finn’s hip. It makes it easier for them to match each other’s movements, and Finn gets more confident, even surprising Poe by taking the lead. Finn works them across the space, towards a shadowy area where the streaking lights that dance across his face and twinkle in his eyes remind Poe of stars. They might as well have gone for the Corellian wine, after all- he feels inebriated. Poe knows the safest proximity to skirt dying stars and gravity wells but he can’t calculate how astronomically far from Finn he’d need to be to forget feeling this pulled toward him, always. He can’t help but bite his lip watching Finn enjoy himself, rocking around with the music, and he knows how he must look (completely smitten) - but he can’t help it. Just for a moment he tries to imagine what it would be like for that feeling to go both ways. A duo of aliens he can’t identify by species bumps into Finn from behind, driving them closer together, his hands landing on Finn’s chest. Finn slides against him with lips parted like he has something to say when their server bullies his way to them, interrupting.

     “Two Robas? Your order is up!”

     Finn clasps his hands to Poe’s, still on his chest. “We’ll have to pick up this dance again later,” he promises, earnest as ever.

     After dinner they catch their shuttle home. It’s no less unsettling a ride this time around, but there are fewer passengers to jostle their bags against. Finn gets excited contemplating where he’ll arrange some of his new possessions, which is charming- every moment of excited Finn is charming. It’ll be a shame to mar what has otherwise been a perfectly lovely day, Poe knows, but needs must. He is dreading the conversation he knows is inevitable once Finn has unpacked and is looking to crash for the night. Whether his stomach is turning from dinner or the choppy ride, the ache in his chest is more consuming. He can’t let it scare him off target, though. Poe has to keep reminding himself how much worse it hurts to want Finn in his bed so badly when it means very little to Finn. He tells himself; _tonight_.

     They disembark with Poe grateful to be on his own steam again, even if it's just the power of his own two legs. The moons are already up, so they take a moment to enjoy the fresh night air after an entire day of re-circ on the Dux-4. It doesn’t do much to clear Poe’s head, unfortunately, but instead of going straight to Poe’s quarters now that they are back on base, he is given a stay.

     “Want to get that nightcap?” Finn asks. He heaves his bag onto his shoulder again energetically, while Poe feels like his whole body is deadweight. “You look like you could use it.”

     “Just a quick one, okay buddy?” It might help take the edge off at least.

     On the way to the mess hall, they run into the General, remotely supervising a launch on a comm-set while answering questions from a gaggle of techs. She spares them a glance and lifts an eyebrow. “Nice jacket, Commander. Evening, Finn,” she smiles. Poe had forgotten his trepidation about just such an occurrence amidst all of his other anguish.

     He musters a nod. “Thank you General. Good night, General.”

     Finn elbows him. “See? It wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be,” he says. “General Organa’s a smart lady, she knows what looks good.”

     They order some fozbeers at the counter and Finn spots a cluster of Poe’s pilot friends and suggests they go join the group. Poe’s disinterest in having an audience to his misery battles with his desire to keep the evening as bright as possible for as long as he can.

     “Sure, why don’t you bring your bag over? I’ll wait for the drinks,” he offers, his optimism winning. Finn agrees and heads over, looking back over his shoulder along the way to grin at Poe.

     Once he has the drinks in hand he crosses the hall to join the others, already gathered around a table. There are a number of empty fozbeers already, and the group are razzing each other about some topic or other, with knee-slapping laughs and nearly toppled beverages, all around. Poe squeezes in between Finn and Jess. Though he has always been blessed with sharp reflexes, he is apparently cursed with dreadful timing, because it’s not until after he’s seated that Poe catches the topic at hand.

     “Ok, hmm. Favorite position?” asks Jessika, stirring the ice in her drink. Mercifully, the conversation at the table has a previously established flow in the other direction, because Snap jumps in first on the other side of her.

     “Double Rodian,” he nods firmly.

     Poe’s ears are prickling- _they can’t be_...

     “Dewback style,” declares the next pilot, after some consideration.

     Poe manfully keeps his jaw from quivering and instead tries to figure out what in the Force he’s going to say when they come around to him-

     “Reverse Nerf Herder” says Kare.

     Definitely not that. And definitely not ‘ _being held from behind and shown the kriffin’ stars while having his hair pulled_ ’, either.

     The Dewback Style Pilot butts in, “Ooo, damn. Can I change my answer to that?” and for a split second Poe’s certain that he spoke out loud.

     “Finn?” prompts Jess, waiting for his answer- which Poe entirely forgot to be anxious about.

     “Hmm?” Finn looks thoughtful.

     Snap clarifies for him. “Position in bed.”

     “Oh! Well I like having the outer edge of the bed-” Finn starts, and Poe thinks, _maybe_ , just maybe he’s been saved by a classic case of ex-stormtrooper naivety. “Poe always has the wall side. I don’t know what you’d call it, but I just like whatever doesn’t make my arm fall asleep so I can touch his hair.” Finn shrugs and takes a swig of his drink like he didn’t just rip Poe’s heart out in front of their entire social circle.

     Jess and Snap turn to each other immediately. “Knew it.”

     Opening his mouth to say something, absolutely nothing comes out. Poe stands up from his seat, leaving his drink, Finn, and everyone else behind, bolting out of the mess hall.

     He doesn’t stop until he’s in his quarters again, where the bed is still unmade from the morning, one of Finn’s shirts on the foot of it. Poe rips off his jacket, because he feels so stifled. A few minutes is all he needs- he needs to think. But this will be the first place Finn will come looking for him. He stares at the jacket in his hands, considering that he really ought to hang it up like Finn would, since it’s so nice. Then it dawns on him where Finn hasn’t bothered to go in a week- “Finn’s room,” Poe groans.

     He ignores the soft, worried beep that responds to him and rushes back out the door, towards the other end of the complex.

     The moment he’s inside the door of Finn’s disused quarters he puts his back to it and slides down to the floor to bury his head in his knees. So much for having a cool headed, friendly chat with Finn tonight- Poe knows he’s made a scene now. He’s so caught off guard by having his weakness pointed out like that, his eyes even sting.

     A few weeks ago the same conversation would have been an average night with the squadron. It would just be a joke about sex, and sex was supposed to be fun! There would have been nothing to be embarrassed about for Poe, and the innocence of Finn’s answer would have been endearing, not heartbreaking. It’s clear now that for Poe, something has shifted. Ever since he’d been old enough to get anybody to knock boots with him he’d also been a starfighter pilot- i.e. not a great long-term prospect. There had been a few supposedly one-time partners who’d turned into something more, but he’d never tried starting with _feelings_ first- now it was the only way he could imagine taking someone to bed. If this was how the average person did it, it was intolerable. No wonder the galaxy was such a miserable place.

     Finally, there’s the knock at the door he’s been dreading. Finn must have followed BB-8, her whirring concern for Poe audible. He contemplates not answering.

     “I said something I wasn't supposed to, I get that,” Finn calls from outside.

     He can't not answer. He can’t lie to Finn if he wants to be friends after they’ve had it out. If that's going to work at all- he owes him honesty.

     Poe opens the door and steps back into the room, silently, waiting for Finn to shut the door behind himself. He can hear BB-8’s sad beep, but he tells her to go to communal charging for the night. It would kill him to have an audience to this.

     “I’m sorry,” Finn says, his face fallen.

     “No, no, you are _not_ the one to blame here,” Poe tells him. “I’ve been, I don't know- terrible. but I don't want to upset you, or hurt you.”

     Finn shakes his head like this is an impossibility, and Poe wants so badly to be above reproach like Finn imagines him to be. “You're the upset, hurt one, right now, Poe,” he points out. “What's the problem?” He steps towards Poe cautiously, hands lifting slightly, reaching. Poe takes another step back.

     “I think we should stop-- we have to have separate bunks,” he spits out, frustrating himself, because that’s the least of it. “I think you’ll be okay on your own. And I’ll still be close by.”

     Finn looks stricken. “But don’t you like it?”

     Already Poe is regretting his policy of honesty going into this conversation, rubbing his stinging eyes. “I do, and- it's not _appropriate_ ,” he says. Finn doesn’t jump in to question this. “I shouldn’t- I can’t do that anymore, not like I want to,” he says miserably.

     “How would it be- if it was like you _want_?” Finn asks, staying very still.

     Poe shakes his head. “I used to want to be in bed with someone because we were messing around!” he cries, struggling to get to the point. “But that’s not all I want anymore, I feel-” Poe stutters. That’s the problem- he _feels_. Finn just continues to look at him patiently, wanting to understand. Poe needs to explain better, and he’s fouling it all up. “I can’t just casually get in bed with someone anymore, for sleep, or for sex- not unless it’s with someone who loves me back.”

     Poe is losing the battle to keep his eyes from welling up, and it blinds him a little, he doesn’t see Finn approach and suddenly wrap his arms around him.

     Finn holds him tight with his nose dipped into the spot between his neck and shoulder. “Poe, I _am_ that someone,” he says.

     Poe laughs wetly, “What? No... What?” He pulls back and wipes his face with his sleeve.

     Finn eyebrows twist, trying to keep up with the swing of Poe’s very muddled reaction. “You love me, Poe.”

     “Yeah?” Poe coughs, still sputtery.

     “Well that’s good,” Finn says brightly. He reaches out to touch Poe’s face and thumbs away some of the wet under his eye. “That’s what I thought when I started sleeping with you, buddy! I don’t just wander into bed with anyone, either.”

     Poe is going to have to pick him up on this whole ‘sleeping with’ vs _’sleeping with’_ business before he has another meltdown. “Before, with the pilots- you get they were talking about sex?”

     “Well yeah, I’ve been in a military before!” snorts Finn. He starts pulling Poe toward him by the hips, like when they were dancing. “I know how people talk- but I haven’t tried that yet. And they said ‘in bed’ so I just thought of what might be nice from what I already know I like.”

     Poe slides his hands up to Finn’s chest again, like when they were interrupted. “Oh,” he says simply.

     Finn tilts his head so that his breath ghosts just under Poe’s jaw, making him shiver. “Why? What do you like ‘in bed’, Poe Dameron?” he asks, his voice a bit gruff.

     “Someone who loves me,” Poe answers, very sure of it. More sure than he was about seeing stars and a bit of hair pulling- more sure by _lightyears_. Apparently he’s been getting what he wants all week, which makes a certain retroactive sense as to why he couldn’t stop himself. He tilts to meet Finn, brushing his open lips across his cheek until it finds a mouth waiting- _waiting for days_ to be kissed.

     Finn circles him tight around the middle, arms so feverish to pull him closer that it threatens to lift Poe off the ground as they kiss. Poe grins into it, and he can feel Finn notice- his attention shifts and he presses a dry kiss to his dimple instead of his lips. It makes Poe’s heart flutter, he digs his fingertips into Finn’s chest to see if he can detect the same.

     “Not upset and hurt anymore?” asks Finn, nuzzling his cheek.

     Poe shakes his head slowly, “No. You?”

     “Not if you’re okay, Poe.” Finn pulls back enough to check, sliding his hands up from around Poe’s waist to cup his face. Poe smiles easily and Finn leans in quickly to kiss his forehead. “Can we please go to bed?” he asks, “-however you want.”

     With a glance at the unfamiliar bunk in Finn’s empty room, Poe laughs. “Sure. Not this one though. C’mon.” He grabs one of Finn’s hands and makes for the door.

     With Finn’s hand in his on the way back to his quarters, Poe is walking on air- his natural habit. He’s so absurdly happy that he doesn’t particularly mind the sudden appearance of Jess and Snap rounding the corner of the hallway just as he conducts Finn through the door. Poking along behind them is BB-8, tentative. She must have taken a detour to seek help while on her way to follow his order.

     Snap’s head does an assessing nod at him. “All right, Poe?” Beside him, Jess sports a cautious frown.

     Right, Poe thinks- because he _did_ just run out of the mess hall without a word, never to return. “Much better,” he smiles at them, a little bashful- but glad they cared enough about him to check.

     Jess and Snap chuckle amongst themselves. “C’mon BB-8. I think they might like some alone time,” says Jess. BB-8s twitters in confusion as the three carry on down the hall toward their own destination. “We’ll explain when you’re older.”

     Finn’s waiting for him just inside the room, their fingers still threaded together. Poe rounds on him, closing the door by shoving him up against it, sealing their mouths together with a deep kiss. Their hands find each other's necks, and carefully use them to guide the hurried, repeated press of lips. He savors the gasp from Finn when he runs the edge of his teeth on his full bottom lip, bites it gently, then smooths the sting with a light swipe of his tongue. Finn tries to match him, tenderly applying the lesson and proving himself a good student. Poe dips into his mouth next with a dart of tongue, teasing him out and then letting himself be plundered. He starts to let his hands travel south, mapping over the sturdy peaks of Finn’s collar bones and down his borrowed shirt, familiar texture but with someone else’s heat behind it.

     “You won’t be needing this,” he says, pushing Finn’s jacket off his shoulders. “No matter how good you look it in.”

     “Well no,” Finn agrees while Poe mouths at his neck. “I’ll have you.”

     Before he can get either of them any further undressed, and despite Finn’s delectable whimper, Poe steps back. “Why don’t you unpack your stuff from today? Give me a chance to freshen up. You can too,” he suggests. Finn nods a little dopeily, touching his mouth like he’s carefully preserving evidence of what just happened. Poe leans in to kiss his cheek. “Back in a flash, buddy.”

     Poe sorts himself out in the ‘fresher and returns to the room dressed for bed and anxiously twirling a tube of body slick that he tosses onto the bunk for later. In the middle of the floor, Finn is unpacking the last of the candy and trying to determine where to put it.

     “Pantry,” Poe declares, taking it to put away and passing Finn a water. He’s buzzing with anticipation, looking for something to do. “C’mere you,” he says, offering Finn a hand off of the floor. Once Poe has him at eye level again and Finn is gazing at him so fondly his nerves are stilled by half.

     While Finn takes his turn with the ‘fresher, Poe goes to sit on his bunk and immediately flops over artlessly. He rubs his breastbone like it might give way and let him reassure his racing heart. It has been a long day, but he vividly remembers that when he left this bed this morning, he felt sure he’d be coming back alone. Now he scoops up a pillow and hugs it, never more glad to be wrong. After several nights’ use it smells like Finn so he lets himself indulge, closing his eyes and just breathing it in, soothing him while he waits.

     The lights click off like it’s any other night- not the night that he gets to give himself, full-bodied, to the deepest desire he possesses instead of shying away. Finn pads into the room wearing the threadbare second-hand sleep clothes Poe gave him, hair still damp from his shower. He looks gorgeous as always, even as unsophisticated as this, which is a perfect match for Poe with his face half mashed in a pillow.

     “At last!” he calls, summoning Finn closer.

     “Hey, I wasn’t the one holding this up, for the record,” Finn grins, kneeling on the bed next to him. “You were in your _own_ way.”

     Poe turns his head so he can groan into his pillow. “A terrible tactical error. I’m a laserbrain,” he mutters. He can’t stay cross with himself though, rolling over onto his back so he can better appreciate the sight of the man he loves lying next to him.

     Finn reaches out a hand to pet his hair. “I can’t believe they let you fly around in one of those death traps, let alone lead two squadrons,” he teases.

     Instead of objecting to his baby Black One being called anything less than a pinnacle of engineering, all Poe can do is agree to his own foolishness. “I _know_ , right? I’m thinking of demoting myself,” he says.

     “Oh, don’t do that,” says Finn. He scoots closer, slipping an arm over Poe. “I like being on good terms with the boss.”

     Poe reaches out, hooks a finger under Finn’s chin and leads him down. Finn licks his own lip just before they make contact, offering a sweet, plump kiss. Poe reconsiders. “You don’t even report to me,” he points out, grinning up at him.

     Finn chuckles, “Do anything for you, though.”

     Hesitation dispelled, Poe jumps on that promise- “Kiss me again.”

     Finn bends low with half lidded eyes and a murmuring of Poe’s name, nipping lightly then rushing in to a scorching kiss. Lip and tongue slide together to taste each other, sampling and savoring until both are breathless. Poe thinks _, this is happening, this is happening,_ and he’s been so reckless in the past and so lucky to make it to this point at all. With the arm already around Poe’s middle, Finn scoops him close, gathering him into his arms and rolling and pulling so Poe ends up blanketed on top of him from shoulder to toe.

     Poe lets his knees drop on either side of Finn’s hips, more than ready to dispense with formalities. He sighs into a kiss with his whole body, grinding himself into Finn, both already getting hard.

     “Stars and Skies, Finn. You are gonna have a big treat for me, aren’t you?” Poe laughs, working his hips into Finn again. Under him, Finn flusters so Poe dips close to his ear, nibbling the lobe. “Don’t worry, buddy. I know what to do.”

     Poe sits up on Finn’s lap and pulls off his shirt, dropping it off the bunk.

     “Woah,” says Finn, lifting his hands to run them up his torso.

     “You’ve seen more impressive physical fitness in the Order,” Poe guesses. He’s seen Finn shirtless, and _that_ is- that is very nice.

     “I’ve only seen the same twenty people shirtless my whole life,” says Finn. “And that Ortolan. And Chewbacca,” he says, scrunching his nose.

     “I’m glad I’m your type, Chewbacca is very cool,” smirks Poe. He shimmies back a bit so Finn can sit up enough to haul off his own shirt. “Woah,” he says with Finn’s inflection, still smirking.

     “I’ll just put it back on then,” Finn threatens cheekily, dangling his shirt over the edge of the bunk.

     Poe tackles him and makes him drop it, then rolls them back onto their sides, his own back to the wall, like Finn said he likes. He smiles across at Finn, wondering if that’s a protective instinct. The first thing Finn ever did was save his life and he seems to take the continued duty very seriously. Finn reaches across now to touch his bare chest, first with the tips of two or three fingers then his whole palm. He thumbs over one nipple until it peaks and then the other before pressing more forcefully and turning Poe onto his back again, climbing on top of him.

     Poe doesn’t have any thoughts to share more intelligent than how kriffin’ _hot_ Finn is, so he weaves his fingers together behind Finn’s neck and pulls him down, kissing his face and neck and chest over and over until his lips go dry. Finn breathes his name like a prayer and grinds his hips down. Like they’re suddenly magnetized, Poe’s hands hurry to grip Finn by the rear, pulling him closer, pushing up into him for the dizzying friction. For a while they roll together, breath coming faster and kissing lazily.

     Finn huffs. “I want to have you like this maybe forever.”

     “It’s great,” Poe growls. “But it gets better, too. If you want.”

     “I do, I want,” Finn pants.

     Well, they have their options. Poe already decided going into this that he wanted Finn to be in charge, be able to pull away if he has to - if it’s too much. Not that Finn couldn’t overpower him, but Poe would rather not pin him down while they’re doing something so new and potentially overwhelming. After giving Finn the run around this whole time, Poe wants to offer the best possible experience.

     Poe kisses him hard then eases back. “You can have hands, mouth, and me,” he says. “Only as much as _you_ want- and you can change your mind at any point.”

     Finn looks down at him a little funny like Poe has over explained a bit, which is fine. “You, Poe. Please.” He tucks his head to kiss Poe’s neck, repeating and smudging his plea all down his throat. _You, you, you._

     “You got it,” he says, wriggling a bit so Finn gets the idea to dismount for a minute. He does, and Poe slowly pushes at the waistband of his pants, giving Finn plenty of time to react if he’s not interested. Instead, Finn dives in with his customary enthusiasm, helping Poe pull them off and looking on, wide eyed. Poe really can’t help himself, it’s been- well, maybe _never_ that someone was this taken with him. He blushes.

     “This...might have been my wish in the holofountain,” says Finn, eyes flickering up and down Poe’s body while he licks his lips.

     “Credits well spent, then.” Poe winks, then rolls on to his side, pawing around the pillows to find that tube of slick. Eager to get involved, Finn shuffles out his pants as quickly as possible, his cock bouncing free and heavy.

     “Gorgeous,” Poe admires. He snaps open the tube of slick and spills some on his hand before tossing it to Finn. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever taken a spin with this stuff. Might not even need me, once you get a load of this,” he grins.

     Finn looks skeptical, sitting back on his heels and putting some in his hand to tack it between his fingers. “Then the combination should be even better,” he reasons with a smile. He slicks himself with only cursory interest then crawls close again.

     He watches as Poe reaches back, slipping his slick fingers in himself and scissoring in preparation. Poe can feel the start of perspiration at his neck, breathing a bit ragged. The activity itself is stimulating, sure, but the sight of Finn licking his lips like he could _devour_ Poe is amping up his heart rate.

     “Can I kiss you again?” Finn asks, edging nearer.

     Poe laughs, his voice a little shaky. “You can kiss me, you can try it yourself- whatever you want.”

     No sooner is he invited than Finn launches himself at Poe, sweeping his arms around him and kissing him with a swirl of tongue that promises more. They breathe into each others mouths, then kiss, then breathe and bite and kiss again. Between them, Finn rubs his hand on his own cock, reminded of it. He shifts and places his stretched out palm on Poe’s naked hip, sliding lower, seeking permission. Poe noiselessly agrees, reaching his hand to guide Finn.

     ”Hot,” he remarks, pressing in his own finger, then more as Poe shows him.

     Poe bares down on his hand, praising Finn. “Uhn- yeah buddy, you can bend a little- _oh Force_.”

     He has to preserve himself from the moment a bit, so Finn can get the best of him. The cold lakes of D’Qar flash through his mind like a mantra, even as he sweats. Finn keeps carefully pumping as he squirms against him, obviously hungering for something to do with his erection. He mouths at Poe’s neck, getting a little more toothy in his impatience.

     “Okay, Finn,” say Poe, giving in, He’s just about ready- and even if he isn’t, he’s in far more agony denying Finn than the little bit of burn he might encounter rushing things. “You still wanna do this?”

     “Hell yeah,” Finn sighs, relieved.

     Poe rolls over, getting himself up onto his knees and one hand, reaching out to Finn with the other. “It’ll be easier for you like this. You can control it, okay?” Finn nods vigorously, kneeling up to position. At the last moment Poe notices the tube of slick again and waves it at Finn. “For good measure.”

     Finn hisses, probably missing the step of warming the fluid in his hands. “I can’t believe it will fit,” he mutters, thumbing at Poe’s hole.

     Finn starts to line himself up, teasing the blunt head of his cock up and down his cleft. With every pass Poe thinks this will be the one- he’ll finally be as full of Finn as his heart feels, heavy with anticipation. He gasps when Finn slips past him again without pushing in.

     “C’mon already,” he laughs.

     “Look who’s talking, Commander Doesn’t Realize We’re Already Together!” Finn leans over his back, smoothing the barb by kissing his nape- as close to his face as he can get at the moment.

     Poe can feel the heat of him pressed against his rear, leans into it. “Stay on target there, buddy,” he tries to say sternly- but he loses his edge when Finn’s nose tickles him.

     “Hmpf.” Finn leans back so he can get back to task. “No shop talk in bed.”

     “You sure about that? We talk a lot of business in this bed. Best think-tank in the Resistance,” Poe grins.

     “Not while I’m actively trying to get inside of you then,” Finn clarifies.

     Poe drops his head between his shoulders and smirks fondly. He wouldn’t want Finn so badly if he didn’t enjoy teasing and be teased by him, after all. Finn makes another agonizingly slow pass with his cock, petting Poe’s flank with the palm of his hand then gripping it tight. He finally, slowly, presses in. Poe relaxes into the stretch, muttering encouragements.

     “Oh damn,” Finn breathes, pausing. “You okay?”

     “Great, keep gggnh” Poe grunts, not even allowed to finish his sentence before Finn keeps pushing on, filling more of him faster than he expects, inching his way toward bottoming out.

     Finn’s panting. “I did it, we did it.” He pauses and bends to land his face near Poe’s shoulder, where his breathing cools sweat dampened skin. “Feels _really_ good,” he adds, arms wrapping around Poe in a light, shakey hug.

     “Yeah, buddy. You can _keep_ doing it,” Poe huffs. “Pull out a bit, do it again- you’ll get the idea.”

     He certainly does. Finn kneels back again drags himself out and thrusts back in, slow and slow, then slower and faster, then faster and _hard_. When he connects Poe can feel his thighs shaking. Finn keeps adjusting his knees until he gets the angle that makes Poe whine, as every stroke teases that trigger inside him. He lets Finn find his pace, listening carefully for his voice over the noise of his own rushing lungs.

     “Force,” he swears. “Poe, I wanna make this so good for you.” His voice is higher than usual, almost a sob.

“You are, buddy, you’re _so_ good,” he calls back.

     Poe shoves back onto Finn, enjoying the burn and the way Finn buckles over his back, overwhelmed. He pushes back another few times until Finn can’t take it anymore and retaliates. Gathering his will, Finn starts really putting his back into snapping his hips in several more thrusts before winding himself again.

     Poe can hear Finn muttering to himself to be calm, and it makes him laugh. “You can get excited, Finn. That’s the idea.”

     “I don’t want it to end,” he huffs in Poe’s back. “But I want-” Finn starts, stops, redoubling his efforts. “I want to come, so bad.”

     “I know, I know, I want you to,” Poe says gently. He figures the best way to lead is by example, so he slowly disconnects and then drops from his hands and knees to his belly, tilting his hips up so Finn gets the idea. He finds the tube of slick under the pillows, coats his hand to cover himself and then passes it back to Finn for a top off.

     Once he’s seen to that, Finn tenderly traces his fingers down Poe’s sweaty spine. He drops a kiss at the small of his back then blankets himself over Poe, hands at liberty to wrap around his shoulders.

     “Finn,” whispers Poe, so he has to lean in very close to hear. “Sure you aren’t forgetting something?” His face brushes the wild ends of Poe’s hair- then he remembers. Finn tangles one hand into his curls, then finds his place again with the other.

     He slides back in and then settles his knees to an advantageous position, all the while peppering Poe’s nape with kisses.

     “You ready, buddy?” Finn asks, lips still in contact, burning against his back. He gives Poe’s hair a little tug.

     Poe gives his hips an experiment rut into the bedding, gasping at the dual- no, triple sensation. This will be pretty quick. “Definitely.”

     With a little whimper, Finn starts pushing into him, first in dips and straightforward strokes like before, but then finding a bit of a swirl that straddling like this allows.

     “Ff- Finn, do that again,” Poe sputters, trying to sync himself with the way Finn twists his hips, matching it as he palms his own aching cock, vision starting to darken.

     He tells Finn how it feels like his heart might burst. He’s happy, He’s good. He has his Finn in his bed, with him, in him- whatever. _Just keep doing that, he’s so close_.

     Finn comes before he does, so caught up in Poe talking up his own orgasm. Poe sobs when he feels Finn pulse, hot, the sensation flicking some primal switch in him. He makes an effort to tighten around Finn, make it perfect. Simply rutting is almost enough, _almost_ , then Finn digs into his hair again and shudders. It puts him over the edge, coming hard and swearing while the protective weight of Finn at his back holds him in that moment, making it indelible.

     “Okay. So. Yeah,” Finn pants, finally pulling himself away and rolling onto his back next to Poe.

     Poe catches his breath just enough. “You said it, buddy.” He braces himself to get out of the bed for clean up, possessing the dubious honor of being the more experienced partner. Finn might be willing to do anything for him, but no one appreciates the wet spot. Shoving himself up on one arm, Poe looks down at Finn, closed eyed, resting both hands over his heart with a soft, small smile on his face. It’s absolutely a cheap, naive move for just a few moments after being someone’s first, but Poe bends to kiss the soft skin high on his cheek. “I really love you.”

     “Told you so,” Finn says airily, trying, but ultimately failing to battle back an immense, teeth baring grin.

     Poe jabs him with a tickle. “You should have told me sooner. I might have stayed in bed with you all day, today.”

     “Then I wouldn’t have gotten any new clothes,” Finn points out.

     “Wouldn’t have needed them anyway,” says Poe. He glances at his beautiful Finn, laid out next to him. “I don’t see the problem.”

     Poe pushes off to get out of bunk and step into the ‘fresher for a tidy and a towel, but Finn catches his arm before he can completely get away.

     “Love you too,” he says.

     Poe’s eyes sting a little, again. He just bites his lip and squeezes Finn’s hand before he lets it slip away.

     He cleans himself up, and when he splashes his face he’s surprised Finn put up with as much stubble as he did. And the nearly crying. And the general stupidity. What he did to deserve Finn he may never know- even if he were able to speak directly to the Force itself. Poe regroups with a towel for the bunk and somehow convinces a very snoozy Finn to get changed for bed again, wondering if maybe it _is_ a Jedi mind trick.

     “Come here and kiss me a little before I fall asleep,” Poe demands languidly, once they’re tucked under the covers again.

     “Bossy.”

     “Did say you liked being on good terms with the....mmmm”

     Finn claws his way across the distance between them without even opening his eyes, nosing his way into Poe’s chest and rucking up a corner of his shirt so he can get some extra skin on skin contact. Several sloppy kisses lace themselves up Poe’s neck, slower and slower until finally- they fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [art by me! stitchyarts on tumblr ](http://stitchyarts.tumblr.com/tagged/star%20wars)   
> 


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